“I know,” Johnny agreed quietly. “I’ve felt that way myself. And yet it is so easy to go too far.”
“I know,” the girl sighed a trifle wearily. “I’ve thought of that, and I’ve about given the radicals up. Not till I became a Comrade, though. And I happen to know that they were expecting a priceless package. And the address is about where you say it would be.”
“They did?” Johnny leaned forward. “That’s something worth knowing!
“But look here!” he exclaimed. “They wouldn’t endanger an Air Mail pilot’s life by forcing him to land in a pasture at night!”
“There’s no telling what they would do.” The girl paused to consider. “To them the ‘cause,’ as they call it, is all important. Everything and everybody must be sacrificed to that. But where would they get an airplane and a pilot, much less a radio station? Well, they might—”
“Try to find out.” Johnny gripped her hand.
“I’ll do anything for you.” The girl’s eyes were frank and fearless.
Then suddenly her face was clouded.
“Johnny,” she cried, “where is my father? I have not seen him for days. I am worried, frightened for him!”
“I don’t know.”